


peach schnapps

by trinsolo



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Drunken Confessions, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, One Shot, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Teenage Dorks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21830581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinsolo/pseuds/trinsolo
Summary: Richie Tozier had never been drunk before- in fact, he shouldn’t be drunk right now, given that he was sixteen- and yet here he was, dangling upside down on the clubhouse hammock babbling drunk nonsense at his best friends, glasses threatening to fall off of his face at any moment. They had dared him to down the rest of the bottle, and so he did.____________richie's strategy to drown out his feelings backfires beautifully.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 238





	peach schnapps

**Author's Note:**

> i adore these idiots with my whole heart. i rewatched chapter 2 and had to write something. it's 2 AM. enjoy.

The last bits of summer sunlight leaked in through gaps in the plywood ceiling- tangerine beams falling upon the clubhouse's occupants and illuminating the clouds of dust particles floating through the air.  
Richie Tozier had never been drunk before- in fact, he shouldn’t be drunk right now, given that he was sixteen- and yet here he was, dangling upside down on the clubhouse hammock babbling drunk nonsense at his best friends, glasses threatening to fall off of his face at any moment. They had dared him to down the rest of the bottle, and so he did. It had gone down easy- it tasted like candy _and_ it had temporarily numbed whatever growing feelings he had been having every time he looked at Eddie's stupid face.

“I can’t believe he actually did it,” Ben laughed from his spot on the floor.

Tipsy chuckles erupted from the rest of the Losers, who lay in various poses (and stages of intoxication) throughout the small clubhouse.

“Sh-shit, Rich. Now there’s none left f-for the rest of us,” cried Bill, drawing circles into the floor with his finger. Stan had for some reason resigned to lying facedown.

“I’ve fucking had enough anyway,” he said, voice muffled. Mike buried his face in his hands and groaned in agreement. It was obvious the Losers couldn’t handle their alcohol.  
Starting high school hadn’t changed them much- even though the Losers sometimes found their legs a little too long for their old bikes, the seven of them had yet to outgrow their established rituals: movie nights, sleepovers, loitering at the quarry, and of course, telling Richie to shut the fuck up. Their antics, however, now apparently included coaxing Bill to steal from his parents’ liquor cabinet and getting completely wasted in the clubhouse, because what was adolescence if not rebellious?

“It’s because you fuckin dared him to, Bev! Now look at him. He’s even more of an ass than usual,” Eddie whined, fully sober. Eddie Kaspbrak had also never been drunk before, and he wasn't planning on trying it any time soon. Richie, still cradling the now empty bottle of Peach Schnapps, happily kicked his legs in the air in reply.  
Bev shrugged from the rocking chair in the corner. “He seems fine to me,” she giggled, gesturing to the drunk, bespectacled boy.

“You’re not the one who has to fucking walk him home,” Eddie replied. It would take him at least another half hour to drag Richie’s sorry ass home, and Eddie’s curfew was dangerously close. At this rate, there'd be no avoiding the wrath of his mother. He grimaced.  
“Hey Eds, guess what?” Richie snorted.

“What do you want, dickhead?”

“You’re pretty," Richie slurred.

“Jesus, you’re stupid,” Eddie sighed. Richie winked.

  
“Get a rooooooom,” groaned Stan from the floor.

“ _Please _,”__ said Mike, stifling a laugh.

 _ _  
__ “Fuck you, Stan,” quipped Richie, stumbling to sit upright. With a flick of his index finger, Richie promptly sent a bottle cap flying at Stan’s head (who decided getting up wasn’t worth the trouble). Bill and Bev exchanged a knowing look, but said nothing.

  
“Richie. We’re leaving," said Eddie, rubbing his temples. “ _Now_.”

  
“Fucking fine. But I’m getting up because I want to, not because you told me to,” Richie muttered as he rose from the hammock, looking longingly at the empty bottle of Schnapps. Eddie rolled his eyes as Richie trudged over to where he was standing. "Take me home, Eddie Spaghetti," murmured Richie, leaning in close to the now blushing teen. Eddie's nose wrinkled as he detected notes of peach liquor and cheap beer on Richie's breath.

  
"You fucking reek, dude."

"That's probably just your breath wafting back into your face."

"You need new material."

___

"I don’t need to be carried, Eds,” muttered Richie between burps. "I can walk." The sun had retired behind the horizon, and the two teenagers were trudging along the moonlit dirt path, Eddie's arm slung over the much taller boy's shoulders in an attempt to keep him upright. Eddie Kaspbrak was now focused on making sure his idiot best friend didn't die on their way home. 

"If I let go, you'll fall and fucking cut your knee open."

"And then you'd take care of meeee," slurred Richie, poking a finger into Eddie's cheek. "Doctor Eds."

"Am I not doing that right now, dipshit?" Eddie said, fighting back a grin. He glanced over at Richie- his dark curls unruly, some plastered to his forehead with sweat. He'd never seen Richie this- this _soft_ before, and he was absolutely living for it. It was a nice break from Richie's daily teasing, whose topics included (but weren't limited to) Eddie's mom, Eddie's mom's vagina, or screwing Eddie's mom. When Richie _wasn't_ making fun of him, however, he was his defender- Eddie could always rely on Richie to scramble for Eddie's inhaler at the slightest sign of distress or cuss out whatever bully gave him trouble. But now, as Eddie dragged his babbling friend through the barrens and the streets of Derry, Richie seemed... small. And all Eddie wanted was to pick him up and put him in his pocket.

Richie, on the other hand, past the inebriated recesses of his brain, was silently cursing himself for wanting to kiss Eddie as much as he did right now. Richie had been the one who had proposed the night of drinking. If anything was going to drown out the deafening sound of his heart beating whenever he saw Eddie, it was alcohol (so much for that plan). Ever since he met Eddie, he'd tried to convince himself that the things he felt were normal things teenagers felt about their best friends-but it didn't take long for him to realize that wasn't the case. A few years ago, in an act of catharsis, he had carved their initials into the bridge near the barrens.

He now gazed intently at Eddie as the duo continued their trek, his vision blurring every sharp edge as the color of Eddie's silhouette bled into the moonlit sky.

"Eds."

"What?"

" _Eds."_

"I said what?"

"Everything is blurry."

"No shit. You're lucky you don't have alcohol poisoning. You'd totally choke on your own vomit."

"Fucking _sick_."

"Um, no, you'd die, dipshit." Eddie paused as they rounded a street corner, contemplating his last statement. "Screw it, you're staying with me."

"Ooooh, haven't seen the lovely Mrs. K in awhile."

"Shut up, Richie. She's probably sleeping now anyway."

"Bet she misses me."

The two finally reached Eddie's house, and with some difficulty, managed to haul a very drunk Richie through Eddie's bedroom window. Richie collapsed face first onto the bed, limbs dangling off the edge. "I'm tired as shit, Eddie Spaghetti," he groaned into the mattress.   
Eddie lay next to him, staring at the ceiling.   
"Throw up on my bed and you're dead."

"That rhymed."

"Not funny."

Richie rolled onto his back, his eyes closed. Eddie gazed at his best friend as they lay in comfortable silence, their breathing in near-perfect sync. He could stay like this forever, Eddie decided, before he dismissed the thought. The barely audible whisper that came out of Richie's mouth next broke the silence ever so slightly.

"We should kiss."

Eddie jolted upright. "What'd you just say?"

Richie's eyes were still closed, his chest rising and falling steadily with every slow breath. _He has to be dreaming,_ thought Eddie, a twinge of disappointment in his chest. He softly rolled Richie onto his side, throwing a blanket over his completely wasted best friend. He climbed into bed, moving to turn off the lamp

"I said I want a fuckin _kiss_ , Eds."

Richie whispered again, a bit louder this time. He timidly opened one eye. Eddie froze as his hand stopped on the lamp switch. For a moment he thought his heart was about to bust a hole in his chest, then remembered it was medically impossible. Nevertheless, he stared dumbfounded at Richie, who had never looked better to him than he did right now: wrapped in Eddie's blankets, piss-ass drunk, asking to be kissed.

Eddie nervously turned off the lamp and crawled into bed. His face was soon inches from Richie's, whose brown eyes were now wide in anticipation and focused on Eddie's lips. This was happening. This was really happening-

"Hic."

A loud hiccup suddenly filled the space between the two boys, startling them into withdrawing. After staring at each other for a moment, Richie let out a giggle, which soon descended into a drunken laughing fit.

"Talk about *hic* bad timing, amiright, Eds?" Richie wheezed.

Eddie resisted the urge to facepalm until his forehead went numb. "Beep beep, Richie," he muttered, rolling over to face the ceiling.

"Fine. Can we *hic* kiss now?"

Eddie smiled, turning to pluck the glasses off of Richie. He could still smell the peach Schnapps on his breath. "If you weren't so drunk, I would."   
  
He placed Richie's glasses neatly on the bedside table.

"Shit. How about in the morning, then?" Richie whined.

"Go to sleep."

"Answer the goddamn *hic* question."

"Ok! Sure! In the morning! Fucking go to sleep!"

A pause.

"You know I love you, right Eds?"

"I love you too, idiot."

Eddie (now blushing like a madman) buried his face in his pillow, his hand quickly grabbing Richie's. The lacing of their fingers together seemed to shut Richie up, and soon Eddie could hear the Trashmouth's soft snores. Eddie smiled into his pillow, squeezing Richie's hand in his. _In the morning,_ he thought _. If he fucking remembers._

___

  
When morning came, Richie woke up holding his best friend's hand. While he wasn't complaining in the slightest, he only wished he could remember why.


End file.
